


The Grimm Happenings of Dark World

by TheMSKProject



Series: The Marvel MSK Project [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, It's adventure time, It's the Doc bois!!, Madephen Grange, Madony Starwell, Panic Attack Mention, Stephen Strange is a gentleman, Strap in and enjoy, Triggers, mild mention of car accident, nothing graphic, some Flashbacks to A How To in Avenging, will go over what Maddie does During Dark World, you diagree you can meet me in the pit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-08-19 05:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20204176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMSKProject/pseuds/TheMSKProject
Summary: While Sarah and Cate clear Loki's name on AsgardMaddie is off on her own.Wonder what she's up to.Sister Novel of Shorts to"Dark Darker Yet Darker World: A Guide to Odin's A-Plus Parenting"





	1. Good Work on The Graditude Mads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uploaded alongside [Chapter 1 of Dark Darker Yet darker World](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20204062/chapters/47874937)

Day 2, June 23, 2015

He was… surprised, yeah that’s a word, when I showed up at the hospital the next day asking for him. Him being so kind had my family manners nagging me to give him something, so I baked masa. Only a few people can make masa, it’s a blessing I got from my mother, so I thought even if he is rich, he’s still going to be at least _ marginally _ impressed, and best case, he’ll have never had it before. It took long enough to perfect the kitchen for the sentient bread after some friends in Jersey lent me the space. So here I stand, anxiety through the roof, flinching at every medical personnel who passed me by, hoping and praying _ the _ Stephen Strange could find my call worthy of his time. Don’t get me wrong, he scares… the shit… out of me. But he was kind, and I was a little dependent on him yesterday. 

He does eventually appear coming down the hall when I glance up and around for the ten-millionth time. His brow quirked at the plate in my hands covered in foil. His presence making my fingers tremble as I’m hawk-vigilant for any sudden moves.

“What are you doing here?”

That sentence has the potential to be so cruel, but this one, it was almost concerned. My shoulders, which I hadn’t realized were practically at my ears, lower just a bit.

“I-in honor of my family name I’m - bringing you something.”

I spit it out so my resolve won’t falter. When he doesn’t respond, any ground he’d made to calm me is lost, body tense to run. Just as I opened my mouth to spew an excuse to leave he raises a hand to get my attention, working a little too well as I flinch.

“Sorry.”

He mutters, lowering the appendage but it stays within my field of view. Glancing left and right and finally watching as I jerked away from a nurse passing me, he seems to make a decision.

“We can talk outside.”

He offers. My response a shaky exhale and a nod, waiting for him to pass me so I can keep an eye on him. Yesterday I had a rug tugged out from under me, so my emotional state had me leaning on him, but today I was back on high alert. Even hyper-aware of the swish as Strange held the door for me. I check for traps in the door frame before accepting the assistance. Gaze locked on his hands for any hint I have to flee, I again almost run into him when he stops, wincing as I just barely steer around his side to face him.

“Any better?”

While Strange himself is a cause for discomfort, yeah… fresh air is helping. No bleach and air freshener smell to spark bad memories.

“Yeah. Thank you. I-um- hmm- This is an apology for me being a wreck yesterday. I wasn’t going to buy you something because you probably make more with a single surgery than I do a year, but I knew I could possibly make a passable gift with this- this- it’s Masa, a portugese sweet bread? See it’s from my father’s family but no one currently alive could make it until my mom tried it and I guess she passed the skill to me so I was hoping even though you probably have seen everything, that I could make a decent gift with-”

“I’ve never heard of it before.”

“R-really?”

Well that’s a surprise and a half.

“I don’t just spend my free time sampling exotic breads.”

“I wasn’t saying you did I just-....”

I trail off.

“You didn’t have to give me anything.”

“I-I know. Guys like helping damsels in distress and believe me I’m aware of what I was being yesterday.”

He almost seems off put by my statement, his nose wrinkling a little as a crease formed between his brows. It’s not until his shoulders shake a little that I realize he’s trying not to laugh. Oh. Okay, that’s a better response. Still. I’m not exactly comfortable.

“What?”

I demand, almost brusk.

“You’re straightforwardness is refreshing. That’s all. I deal with a lot of talking around the bush.”

“Yeah well, we don’t pay you guys to do that. We pay you to tell us what’s wrong and how to fix it, we wouldn’t ask if we didn’t want to know.”

The laughter cuts off. My snap startling him. I’m continuing before he can say anything.

“And furthermore. I understand trying to be kind to someone’s feelings and not wanting to overwhelm them, but when someone’s life is in the balance the priorities should rearrange accordingly. And with all the talking around you guys do, you shouldn’t take patients saying ‘I’m fine’ at face value. I know the law covers your asses if the illness is fatal enough, and tests are expensive, but again, doctor, do your job. And- and-!... gah! Thank you. For tolerating me. Have a nice day!”

I shove the plate into his hands and storm off the opposite direction. Heart pounding in my chest as I turn the corner before pressing my back to the wall and sliding down to sit on the sidewalk. Well done on that gratitude Mads….

I sit there for who knows how long, it was noon when I headed out and now it’s pitch black outside, the only reason it looks like dusk is because I’m in New York. Legs have been passing me by all day, but one set stops. I don’t even look up, curling my knees close in a defensive ball as I shove my head down to fluff my hair in a warning to stay away.

“How long have you been sitting out here?”

While it is a question, it doesn’t really sound like he’s asking anyone but himself. I hear a shuffle, but refuse to look. A light pressure on my arm sending a low growl from my throat. The touch retreats.

“You could’ve been hurt out here by yourself. It’s almost four in the morning.”

Four?! I glance up meeting the ice blues I knew were there.

“You shouldn’t be on the streets this late. Come with me.”

He slowly gets to his feet, hand gently offered.

“Please.”

I look at the appendage like it’s a snake waiting to bite me, but hesitantly take it, standing up to follow him back into the hospital and into the elevator. I huddle in the corner until the door opens. It’s then I recognize where he’s taking me. His office. My knees stiffen and I stop. Strange only getting a few feet away before he turns toward me.

“You okay?”

I fight myself, chewing my lip and flexing my fingers, before I nod and catch back up. He holds the door for me again, and once more I check it, before being led to a couch.

“I’d feel much better about your safety if you slept here.”

He explains.

“I still have a while on my shift.”

Every nerve in my body is screaming at me to run away and escape back to my hotel, but he’s right, a single woman traveling alone at 4 in the morning is a bad move. My gaze almost seems to grind as it drags over to the couch. I guess my best bet is to stay here. Though I more likely than not will have to pass out from exhaustion to get any sleep. As I settle down and move the pillows, he leaves into the hall, guess he’s busy. Why was he even outside?

Day 3, June 24, 2015

I grumble a little, rolling over to shove my face in the pillow, getting to sleep was always the problem, sleeping into the afternoon was never an issue. Pulling the blanket over my head to block out any light I startle when the door opens. Pushing my head to the back of the couch. Couch? Where am I? I sit up with a start only to freeze when Strange enters my field of view. Memory returning as I locate myself in his office.

“Good morning.”

He mutters, chuckling quietly as he adjusts the items on his desk a little. From his groomed appearance he must’ve headed home at some point

“Hope the couch was to your standards.”

“It’s fine.”

My response slightly muffled as I burrow back into the blanket.

“Coffee?”

He offers.

“Not~ much of a coffee drinker.”

“Tea?”

“Not much for tea either. All of it tastes like dirty water to me.”

“That what do you prefer?”

“Dirty milk.”

“-?”

“Hot cocoa. And I mean disgustingly sweet american milk chocolate hot cocoa. I like dark european chocolates for anything else, but my USA cocoa is sacred.”

“Uh huh, I see”

“Floral chocolate is gross though. In any capacity.”

“Should I be taking notes?”

“Absolutely. There will be a test.”

“When?”

“It'll be a surprise~”

“That’s comforting. Well. While you plan that I have a brain that requires my attention.”

“Ah- have fun.”

“It’ll be a few hours, so I may not be done in time to see you off, but I’m glad you stayed.”

I dip my head, looking at the couch cushions until the metallic swish of the door knob jolts me to speak.

“Thank you.- for.. being there. Again.”

“Not a problem. Stay safe.”

And with a click he disappeared behind the office door. I get to my feet and finger comb my hair to be presentable before leaving the hospital for my hotel to actually wash up for the day. A feeling begins to gnaw at me as I cross the threshold of my room, that all that’s happened is too much of a coincidence to be an accident. I glance up at my ceiling.

“Are you trying to put me here?”

Sighing, I plop down on my bed.

“If you want me to stay in New York, just give me a hint. Okay? And tell dad I said ‘Hi’.”

Maybe I should doze a little longer before functioning today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clicking between here and Darker World?  
Hotlink back to [Chapter 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20204062/chapters/47999149) where you left off! x3


	2. Day 12, July 3 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small outing and a memory
> 
> Uploaded alongside [Chapter 4 of Dark Darker Yet Darker World](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20204062/chapters/48231958)

He managed to get me to meet him for coffee. Now making it his mission to prove himself to me as a good doctor. Hey I’ll take it. Not like I have the mental strength to drive home by myself right now. I’m staying at a cheaper hotel in Jersey now so I can prolong my stay. My attention away from the bustle of the cafe before approaching feet draw my gaze.

“Dirty milk for you. Dirty Water for me.”

I quirk a brow at him as my fingers curl around the cup. A silent thanks as he took the seat across from me.

“Let me know if there’s enough chocolate in there, the barista seemed stingy.”

“Will do.”

At that I take a sip, careful about the scalding temperature. It’s…. It tastes.

“Hmmm…”

“Bad?”

“N~o. But not good either.”

To remedy the lack of flavour I reach into my bag and retrieve a handful of chocolates, opening the lid of the cup and unwrapping each piece one by one to drop into the heated drink.

“That’s a way to do it, take this.”

My fingers clasp the stir stick and put it to work. In about a minute the mix already looks better. I add a few more, stir a bit then close the lid.

“Now it needs to cool or I’ll burn my tongue.”

“I’m surprised it isn’t cooled by the amount of chocolate you added.”

He snickers.

“It tastes good.”

I fire back, and he leaves the topic. Enjoying his beverage a moment.

“So.”

I start.

“So?”

“Cut to the chase. Why did you ask me to meet you?”

“You’re intriguing.”

“An enigma am I?”

“Not quite, but interesting none the less. What were you up to before this?”

“I helped at Stark Tower-uh- Avengers Tower… Always forget they renamed it.”

His brows go up further.

“Intern?”

“Of a kind. Kinda… Not really. More of a…… Consultant?”

“You don’t remember what you were hired as?”

“I wasn’t hired.”

“Oh, then why-”

“It doesn’t matter, just drop it.”

A small knife twists in my chest, I don’t want to think about Tony Stark right now.

~*~*~*~

It was late, and my habit of hanging around Tony’s workshop hadn’t changed a bit. His presence was nice to distract me from my crippling worry for Sarah. We got along well enough and he… - anyway point is he’s fun to be around. Good workshop music, good conversation, good quiet time,.. good view. I’ll admit to biting my lip a bit when he exerted force on a wrench or lifted something, but can you blame me. Damn. This night in particular I’d had a few drinks, not partaking in alcohol regularly, means I was feeling it decently. Not an impairment, just _ enough _ to open up my options a little. And my options were sit back and admire, or take a hands on approach. I picked a middle ground. Helping Tony with a tool now and then.

He asks if I can reach something with my smaller hands, and in trying I stand in front of him while he points where he needs my help. His chest pressing to my shoulder as he leans a little closer and clarifies his request, effectively making me shiver. My next breath audible and Tony seems to curtly refocus when I retreat.

He becomes engrossed in his work, and, being curious, I leaned over his shoulder to watch. Suppressing the urge to rest in the crook of his neck. His gaze is sharp, jaw set as he’s most likely chewing his cheek while he fiddles with a bolt. His chest stutters abruptly against my hands and -hey, when did I wrap my arms around him?

“You alright Bearcat?”

He’d grown accustomed to providing hugs when I asked for comfort, but somehow I think he knows this contact is different, there’s a waver in his voice. Like the shifting of a thoroughbred in the gate before a race. My fingers trace an unknown pattern under his collar bones.

“Can we?-”

I don’t even have to finish asking.

~*~*~*~

“Maddie?”

“-?!”

I jolt, hand hitting my cup before I scramble and catch it mid-fall.

“Where did you go?”

“I-. Somewhere I didn’t want to be.”

“Then Welcome back.”

Thank the lord he didn’t press the subject.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You weren’t gone long.”

_ :It felt like hours: _

“You sure?”

“I was people watching. Don’t worry about it”

“If you say so.”

I look out the window with my cocoa in hand, falling back to silence as I catch the small hint of the tower above the skyline.

_ :I’m sorry.: _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clicking between here and Darker World?  
Hotlink back to [Chapter 5](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20204062/chapters/48364354) where you left off! x3


	3. Bombardment of Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a quick aside from Chapter 8 of Dark Darker Yet Darker World. Then back to our favourite little damaged Blonde
> 
> Uploaded Alongside [Chapter 8 of Dark Darker Yet Darker World](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20204062/chapters/48708542)

***Earlier that Day in Asgard.***

“Cate stay with us alright just stay awake.”

Thor’s arms hold a broken human, a fallen friend.

“You’re the one who let her come along.”

Loki grumbles, but Thor catches his brother checking over his shoulder to check on her every few steps.

“What are we supposed to do? I doubt even our medicine can fix this.”

The trickster looks over her wounds, seeming to calculate the validity of his brother’s words as he watched him try to keep her conscious. Her ribs were broken in several places, a few puncturing into her left lung as made apparent by the blood she’s coughing up every minute or so. Her right leg is just a hair more crooked than it should be. However the main cause for concern was the gushing wound in her abdomen and slash to her neck, nicking the artery just enough to let her blood get lost faster than her body could make more.

By this point, no treatments Asgard has would save her in time, so Loki needs to address other options. Scenario after scenario play through his mind and he finally settles on the idea he started with.

“Thor, we need to get her to the vault.”

“The vault? But why-?”

“Just trust me!”

~*~*~*~

“So what are we using from here?”

“Just give me a moment.”

“We don’t have-”

“JUST SET HER DOWN THERE!”

Loki bellows, pointing demandingly to a stone slab in the middle of the vault. As Thor moves to place her down, the younger brother darts off out of sight, only to return with something in his hands.

“Loki wait-!”

But it was too late Eternal flame was already dumped onto the poor girl as she faded in and out of breathing. The magic sending an orange glow through her form before her breathing stops altogether. Thor’s fists clenched.

“Why did you use so much?!”

“I-I- I panicked.”

Loki defended, backing up as his brother gained on him.

“You’re only supposed to take a small piece, not the whole flame.”

“It wasn’t all of it. I left a little…”

“Doesn’t matter. It was too much and now you’ve ki-”

“Oh?..... anyone have an explanation?”

The third voice makes both brother’s jump slightly. Cate is sitting up on the slab looking at her hands, that are on fire. Thor’s eyes narrow.

“Loki what have you done?”

But the dweeb is already in his helmet leaning back to yell in triumph.

“IT’S ALIIIIIIVE!!!!”

Thor scoffing before deciding to help Loki play frankenstein with a large bolt of lighting behind his feet. The smaller male jumping with a shrill cry before the god of thunder is met with a glare of contempt.

“So no explanation?”

Cate cuts in.

“You were dying, the flame was the only way to save you, but Loki grabbed the whole flame and you might be a god now.”

“Excuse me what?”

“Yeah I tried to make him use a smaller piece but-!”

“What was that last bit?”

“Oh you may be a god-well goddess now.”

“Awesome! What of? Not that it really matters I’M A GOD!!! BOW PEASANTS!”

Thor holds his face in a hand.

:god there are two of them.:

While Thor is busy in his brain, Loki decides to respond.

“Most likely something fire related as we have no idea the fire’s effects in humans.”

“YYYYYYYEEEEESSSSSSSS!!!”

Cate victoriously fist pumps. Thor giving Loki a quizzical look.

“So how do we tell father?”

Loki sheepishly grins.

“I have an idea, let’s not tell your father….”

“Loki…”

“God of mischief, I’ve been way too contained these past few weeks.”

The thunder god rolled his eyes, rolling his hammer with an eased flip, Cate changing the subject.

“Where is Sarah?”

“That’s where we’re going now.”

Thor replies and off they go.

~*~*~*~ 

~*~*~*~ 

***Earth- New York- July 11, 2015***

Condensation cools my palm as I grip the soda bottle I’d swiped from the hospital vending machine. A drop hitting Strange’s office couch with a soft _ plap _. My gaze flicks to the small puddle, hand smearing it until it’s not noticeable before gripping the edge of the cushion. A familiar material.

~*~*~*~

My body shifts to watch him in the back of the room, starting to stand and head his direction.

“Tony, Drinking yourself under the table will only make things worse. Just talk to me.”

“I don’t need to talk. I need to forget.”

He raises his glass, glaring at me over the rim, his strides to bypass me to his workbench ceased as I backstep to match, caging him off as we round the couch.

“Well this method obviously isn’t working.”

“Maybe it would if I could drink in peace.”

“And give yourself alcohol poisoning? Absolutely not.”

“What are you, my Mother?”

“Tony-! I’m Just worried Okay?! I don’t want you hurt.”

“I ALREADY _ AM HURT _! Best I can do now is drown myself in my work and hope I can bury it.”

“You forgot to mention how you drink enough espresso to kill a whale. You barely eat. You don’t sleep-”

“I _ can’t _.”

“I know it’s hard when yo-”

“No. You- You weren’t there.”

“I don’t have to have been there to understand why you-”

“You don’t _ Know _! Everytime I close my eyes I’m thrown back there. Trapped. Helpless. U-”

“Utterly Defenseless. Going through an endless cycle of the event and sometimes, when you’re unlucky, the events will change to an even worse outcome, and it’s all your fault. Even awake the images flash behind your eyes. Whispers haunt you until you want to scream just to drown out the cacophonous noise of every second playing at once. Over and over. I am no_ stranger _ to Post Traumatic Nightmares. _ Mr. Stark _.”

“Over a medical faux paux? Give me a- ghk!”

My hand stings a bit, but I’m sure his cheek stings worse. A red mark rising to the surface as he rubs at his face.

“Fuck you.”

I snarl. Turning to leave before my arm is caught.

“I’m sorry…”

His head is dipped, gaze dull with a crease between his brows. The darkness under his eyes giving his features a weight of age that rarely shapes his face. His next words a rasp.

“Want to distract each other for a while?”

My response hesitates, before I click my tongue with a hiss and lean forward. The couch making a creak of protest.

~*~*~*~ 

The door creaks open. Jolting me to the present.

“Oh. Hi. You fended for yourself in the drink department I see.”

Strange muses, striding to his desk.

“Would you mind joining me for a lunch break. You look like you need one as much as I.”

I can only nod. Following behind the doctor out the door and down the hall. He doesn’t hold doors anymore, seeing as I always ‘Look like a wolf inspecting a bear trap’ in his words. The bright lights try to spark older memories. A window at the end of the hall making bile rise in my throat. I won’t allow _ those _ memories to ambush me as well. I put my foot down on that. I round a corner behind him. Passing room after room. Medical equipment beeping and clicking. Heart monitors at different pace.

~*~*~*~ 

“Hey-hey-hey Easy~”

Tony’s face is pale, eyes shot wide as his chest is stuttering. Glancing in every direction, but it’s clear he’s not seeing his workshop. I place a hand to his shoulder as I sink to the floor beside him.

“Look at me.”

I mutter. His eyes glance over me a moment. It was recognition I was looking for.

“Good.”

Over my shoulder, a familiar bot is looking concerned.

“It’s okay Dum-E. Just- Help me out.”

Nodding, the robot lets out a slow series of beeps.

“Tony whenever you can, start counting.”

Shaking, he manages a quick nod. Stammering as a crease forms in his brow, my touch going down his arm to his wrist.

“Want to count with me?”

Another nod. I have Dum-E slow the tones even further. And roughly, shakily, Tony follows my lead in counting. His breath still staggered, but his focus is shifting. At 20, his gaze is firmly back in the present and I motion for Dum-E to stop. Now let’s get his breathing to slow a bit more while he’s back on Earth.

“We’re going to try and breathe okay?”

I move around him and pull his form close, his back to my chest as I breathe slow and even.

“Just follow. In through the nose. . . . . Out through the mouth. . . . . In. . . . . Out.”

I count each breath to stay as steady as possible. Feeling his back to keep tabs on his progress. When he evens out I give him little tasks. Count 5 things, how many fingers, draw shapes on the floor. His voice, when he eventually stops, is still a rasp.

“I’m okay now.”

My arms wrap around him and he puts a hand to my forearm.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

I mutter, pressing to his back in relief.

“I just mix and match to bring you back, get you breathing, and calm you down.”

“It works.”

“I’ve noticed.”

The room falls to a comfortable quiet, but after a while I nuzzle the back of his shoulder to get his attention.

“Let’s go fiddle with one of your cars.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

~*~*~*~

Strange shifts his arm to direct me into the cafeteria, the muscle shifting under my fingers as he leads me along-! When did-? I pull away with a start, and he turns and waits, though he says nothing. Tipping his head with a warm expression until I follow behind him again. He acts as though nothing happened.

“The food isn’t too bad here. Just. Don't get anything with salad. Which is no problem for you.”

He’s basically monologuing at me. He does this a lot. Making up for my silence while not creating an uncomfortable environment. A metal tray slams to a table on my right, the metallic clang echoing through the space.

~*~*~*~

“Leave me _ ALONE _! I am not some child you have to babysit! Leave failing that job to Pepper!”

The wrench lands some inches in front of me, skidding across the floor with a shrill clatter.

~*~*~*~

I bump into Strange’s back again. Staying there a moment as this time I froze. Him turning ‘round with a concerned expression.

“Are you alright. You’re more spacey than usual today.”

My gaze lowers to the floor.

“Just… memories. I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

“Seems your mind does.”

I jolt. Looking up to meet the ice blue of the doctor’s gaze. The usual fear I felt was still there, though slightly dampened as I got used to associating him with anything but his medical practice. My fingers flex.

“Just.. not here. Not now.”

With an agreeing nod, Strange changes the subject

“They have grilled cheese? Want that?”

I look at the offer in question. Looks safe. And ketchup is bottled.

“Sure.”

“I’d tell you to pick a table, but I’m afraid you’ll fly off again.”

“Ha ha.”

The hollow words are anything but amused. Shoulders hunching as I look away. I hear him shuffle.

“Line’s moving.”

I step toward his voice, the tile holding my attention. The next minutes are just routine. He makes a noise and I follow. Perking up especially to the clucking noise. The tongue to teeth sound I know so well. My hands long for the familiar palomino fur, her fluffy pale mane flying with every gain in speed. Steady stout legs carrying me around corners.

Another sharp cluck brings me back. Seems he noticed that caught my attention. Great. More questions. The next cluck is accompanied by a soft whistle call, my brows lowering with a blow of air and a horse snort. I am accustomed to making such sounds, though the impressed sound from Strange means he was surprised. I follow it up with a low whicker. He lays off the clucking. Thank. Goodness. We get food, find a table, and sit in silence. I end up chewing on the inside of my lip and cheek more than my food. I’m pretty distant.

Something is shot towards me and I fly backwards with a shriek, chair falling onto its side with a deafening clatter and my legs are stiff, knuckles white in their grip on the table. The whole cafeteria goes quiet as I feel confused gazes. My own eyes darting about as my chest constricts. Finally landing on the table where a small salt packet lay next to my plate. Strange isn’t in his chair. There’s a small thunk on the floor behind me, and then a hand presses to my back, a presence at my side ushering me out of the room, and every glance I feel stops moments after it registers.

“I was trying to get your attention. That was stupid and tactless. I apologize.”

His voice is frustrated, though none of it seems to be directed at me.

“I.. didn’t mean to startle so badly.”

“You’ve been jumpy all day. Again I’m sorry.”

I just nod, and after a while I’m back in his office.

“Can you talk here?”

“I-”

My mouth quickly shuts again. Lips tensing in a line before opening, only to shut. Rinse and repeat. Shoulders slowly hunching before I blow an annoyed breath at myself and force my shoulders down.

“Yeah… I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clicking between here and Darker World?  
Hotlink back to [Chapter 9](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20204062/chapters/48829172) where you left off! x3


	4. Headlights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are now departing from being concurrent to Darker World. As some things need to get stacked before "A Strange Turn of Events"  
Dates will be in the chapters as always.
> 
> This chapter enjoy a not so jumpy Maddie again as she has settled a bit. Having explained things to Strange allowed her to let him close, and she takes it as the signal she asked for in Chapter 1.

October 22th, 2015

I take a deep breath of cool night air. Backpack over one shoulder setting my posture to favor the right as my eyes trace the stars, making my own constellations and noticing a certain star-bright pentagon with a grieving smile. I almost feel the grass under my fingers again, almost feel the subtle glow of that dim lantern from all those years ago, but an approaching set of lights has my gaze drifting back down towards the road.

When I decided to stay in New York, I saved money by staying in Jersey nearby so I could take the bus up everyday. while the city was not my preferred living environment, I was in a bit of a purpose drift and my chance meeting with the  _ strange  _ Doctor seemed too... well  _ strange _ to just be coincidence. It felt like I was supposed to be here, and on top of it he made me feel at ease. I’ve started calling him by his first name.. Kinda. I pronounce it wrong on purpose. A homage to a verbal fumble one afternoon. He doesn’t seem to mind though, nor my proclivity to call him Stef, short for Stephanie. He’s a close friend, and with being so far from home and not wanting to make the day and a half journey alone with my thoughts for fear of spacing out and crashing, I’m staying here, with him. At least until I get myself together. The black Lamborghini Huracán slowed to a halt at my feet before the passenger door opened to me, eyes flicking to see Stephen leaned to push the door out as the cabin lit his face. I step down to situate myself in the seat, carefully maneuvering my backpack to settle between my feet. My hand grasping the comfortable handle of the door and my arm tenses to pull it closed.

“Hey!”

“Good evening.”

“Formal as ever Stef.”

“I’ve got a doctor reputation to uphold.”

“Oi~”

I roll my eyes, catching the reflected spots of light from the cabin lights off of his watch. My back settles into the chair and my fingers instinctively go to my right to lean the seat back far enough for me to just sleep on. Hearing him chuckle before watching his hand grip the gear shift. His knee moving slightly as he holds the brake to switch into drive. The cabin dims, illuminated only by the luminescence of the dashboard while the engine purrs. Oh man the purr~ that is pure ten cylinder LP610-4 Lambo  _ luxury.  _ Being friends with a rich man is  _ nice _ . I visibly shiver as he puts pedal to the metal, sending an overly satisfying roar through the car that rumbles through the floor like the bellow of a dragon. Seeing those blue eyes flick towards me at my ever too slightly suggestive noise at the sensation. I don’t even have the will to care as I hear the engine rev again and again, it’s then I notice he’s doing it on purpose because of my positive reaction and I can’t help turning my head a little as my cheeks dust pink. Just now realizing I pretty much moaned at a car engine next to him. In my defense, that sound is a weakness for me, not my fault his car makes the sexiest noise on the planet. Well one of them. My thought train is derailed with his chuckle that breaks the slight embarrassed tension in the air.

“I take it you like the car?”

“Hell yeah~”

Thaaaat came out much more sensual than I planned... He doesn’t seem to notice, and if he does, he doesn’t comment. Just adjusting his leg before sending the car flying down the road. Giving the engine another rev as he winks my way. There’s the blush again. Quick brain, small talk.

“So… where’re we headed?..”

My hand is absentmindedly playing an invisible harp in my hair. While the other dances over piano keys on my leg. 

“I said it was a surprise. But first we have to pass the toll into New York again.”

“Sorry… I offered to take the bus up and have you get me from there!”

“I told you it’s fine, you think a toll is anything to me?”

“Well no- but-!”

“But nothing. You lost, zip it!”

While his tone is playful, the egotistical bastard was slightly irritating.

“Make me!”

I hiss back, to which he pushes his foot down and the engine roar makes me shiver again.

“Not fair!”

“Not my fault you’d sleep with my car.”

“I-! Ack-! GRRRR!”

I make a low growling trill in the back of my throat. The car seeming to respond by purring a little louder in random intervals before falling back to it’s normal relaxing thrum.

“Oh no they’re communicating!”

“Shut up!”

I can’t stop the laughter bubbling up behind my words as I playfully smack his shoulder.

“Hey don’t hit the driver!”

“Don’t harass a woman!”

“Woman? Where?”

“Why I-?!?”

His wholehearted laughter cuts off my words as I just can’t stay mad at the infectious sound making me giggle as well.The chuckling dying down, I notice the car’s humming seems to be oscillating like laughter, steadying out as our own laughs peter off to a comfortable silence. I decide to try another avenue of conversation.

“Any particular reason you wanted to hang out tonight?”

“It’s nice out, figured a night owl like you was still up. Nothing in  _ particular  _ really.”

“Ah~ So I assume Christine was unavailable.”

I tease, his face skewing as that seems to rub him the wrong way.

“That’s not what I-”

“Hey easy… I was teasing. Did something happen between you two?”

His eyes close a moment but he quickly opens them to watch the road, fingers tapping on the wheel and I see him shift. I quickly realize he doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Forget I asked let’s just-”

“We aren’t a  _ thing  _ anymore… We never really were to be honest.”

“I’m sorry Strange~...”

Mom-mode activated. My hand goes to his shoulder, feeling him tense under my touch before seeming to refocus.

“It’s alright.. I just thought. ‘Aw hell, if I’m gonna feel self-pity why don’t I grab my pal and make it not look so  _ strange _ when I go grab an ice cream at 10:30 at night.’”

My expression softens as the pun doesn’t carry as much comedic weight with the low, but slowing rising, mood.

“Stef…”

I don’t really know how to respond, settling for.

“I will gladly join you for ice cream now that I made you spill where we’re going”

The glint of cocky confidence in my eyes fades however, when he huffs a prideful scoff.

“I didn’t spill  _ not’in’!  _ That’s not the only place we’re going.”

“Well shucky-darn! Thought I’d won a moment there.”

And with a shared chuckle the mood is back to our playful and friendly dynamic. Soon the car is pulled to a stop on the street and I step out, door closing. I make eye contact with him as he locks the vehicle. Awaiting me on the other side before picking up stride down the sidewalk. Even at night the city is bustling, my attention drawn here and there, frequently being tapped by my companion before he makes a turn to ensure I don’t lose him. I have to remember the crowds here are not conducive to my flitting, observing gaze. 

“Hey, turn, we’re here.”

I note the familiar sign and follow behind Stephen into Gotham West Market, going up to the counter of Applehill Creamery to order a few cups of ice cream before grabbing a table. The bustle isn’t as prominent here as the market is quiet save the music over the speakers. I look down at my left hand and, after some mental debate, reach into my backpack for a black sharpie. Not paying any heed to my friend’s quirked brow as I draw two circles under each corner of the nail on my middle finger. Making a curved line under those that spanned around the tip of my finger. My index, ring, pinky, and thumb gain a paw print on the pad and details of toes and claws adorn the side of my thumb and tips of my fingers. I then detail spines going down my middle finger all the way over the back of my hand, stopping at the wrist. Capping the sharpie, I put it away and hold my hand with all my fingers clustered together, middle finger slightly apart from them, moving like the neck of the creature I’d drawn on my hand. Stephen had been watching intently, so I finally grant him a name to the beast I’d made.

“Fingisaur!”

I chirp. His gaze scans my fingers until the shapes seem to line up as I place each pawprint to the table and curve my middle finger to make the face I’d drawn look up at him.

“I can make it dance.”

I start to make the fingisaur bob its head and stomp its front feet by bouncing my middle finger in the air and tapping my index and ring fingers on the wooden surface. I see a smile curve his lips and decide to bring out the big guns, planting the fingisaur’s back feet, I raise the front of its body and put its left front foot to a more centered position beneath it before moving its other front paw from down-to-the-left to up-to-the-right, bobbing its head to the beat. Stephen snickers, realizing the creature is doing the disco. 

“You’re odd~”

He murmurs.

“Makes you feel better right?”

“I suppose. I’m surprised you didn’t correct me.”

“On what?”

“On saying ‘odd’ thought you’d jump at the chance of the ‘You’re  _ strange’  _ pun.”

“But  _ you’re Strange _ not me.”

The male rolls his eyes, before his gaze is sent down to my left hand again. The fingisaur doing the worm, sending a probably louder than intended laugh from the doctor that only gains volume as I switch to the Moonwalk. Finishing the song with a signature Michael Jackson crotch grab, sending Stephen’s arm flying up for him to muffle himself in his elbow. His eyes widening a little as he fought back the guffaw he wanted to let go. My face curves in a bright smile as I feel lighter for improving his mood. 

The minutes tick by, the Market announces it’s closing, but our conversation continues even as we toss our empty ice cream cups and exit the building. We chuckle and joke our way back to the car before a much shorter journey to somewhere I don’t immediately recognize until we step out and walk towards a staircase. The Highline. My hand goes to the rail to steady myself as I’m not the best with heights. The ever observant Strange takes notice.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just not the best with heights, once we’re up I’ll be okay. As long as I can’t see the edge I can force myself to calm down.”

My explanation is punctuated by a nervous chuckle, before I feel a gentle pressure on my back, gaze flicking upwards to see his lips pulled back in a gentle reassuring smile. One I return with an appreciative expression. The rest of the ascension blurs by and soon we’re up above the streets and surrounded by bright flowers and plants, caressed and softened by the moons almost lavender glow. The air catches in my throat as I take it in, no one’s up here. Quiet taps on the wood denoting our progression through the elevated garden. A wave of calm washes over me and I close my eyes, unaware I’m being watched warmly. My shoulders loosen and I take deep breaths of the clean air. I’ve never been up here at night before. It’s beautiful. 

Halfway across the highline we find ourselves relaxing on a bench in one of the many rest areas, surrounded by flowers and ornate sculptures from all different corners of the world. 

“It  _ is  _ nice out. You need to grab me for stuff like this more often.”

I muse, not taking notice of my left hand shuffling its inked paws on the cool stone. Stephen hums an affirmative response before leaning back in the seat, his left foot sliding over, making him accidentally bump knees with my right leg. My face flushes, thank gami it’s dark out. At my jump his leg retreats back towards himself.

“Sorry.”

He mutters.

“It’s fine.”

_ :he’s warm: _

My gaze lingers on him a moment and I quickly look down as something squeezes somewhere between my throat and diaphragm, whatever it was it made me feel nervous. 

“You ready to keep going?”

He asks.

“Oh… I mean.. can we stay a little longer?”

He checks his watch with a small smirk.

“Sure, but not too long, the guards will be patrolling soon.”

“Guards?!”

I whisper yell as I was subconsciously switched to ‘we’re doing something we shouldn’t’ mode by his words.

“The highline closes at 11 like the market, but they can’t guard it all night, they have shifts to check for people, but otherwise it’s ‘technically’ open to the public.”

“Stefen~”

It was a very him thing to do, my eyelids going half-closed as my face shifts to a warmer expression. Meeting his blue eyes with matching mischief and confidence. It was only a few moments later I caught us both leaning and jumped, backing myself to my original position as he seems to go through the same realization. Both of us glancing about with reddened faces. His hand on his neck as I twirl my hair as it falls into my face. Eventually he clears his throat.

“So, shall we head back then? We probably won’t have enough time to make it all the way through now that I think about it.”

My face hesitantly tips up to meet his gaze, thankfully my cheeks have calmed a bit.

“Uh-um… sure…. ul- lead the way?”

I shakily stand, mentally kicking myself for my knees protesting my weight. What  _ was that _ back there? Did we almost?-

“You coming?”

“Oh! Yeah hold up!”

I pick up the pace to fall in step with him on a silent trip to the car, and sit beside him in a quiet drive back to Jersey and my place of sleep. The doctor clearing his throat one final time.

“I had a good time tonight. So, shall we do this again sometime soon?”

My mood brightens as I realize we are still as close as ever.

“Yeah.. I’d like that.”

And with that my feet meet the asphalt, backpack over my shoulder, and I close the door. Almost instantly passing out when I hit my pillow. I almost think last night was a dream, until I looked down at my left hand. The black ink faded, but not gone, just like the memories I mused over while my fingers drummed on the sheets. 


	5. A Warm Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maddie is trying to figure out how to deal with Strange.

January 13, 2016

Another puff of white materializes from my breath, visible in the lamp light to fade into the chill. My fingers ache as I try to keep the blood flowing through them. Steps echoing as my ankles feel every shift of weight, stiffened as though shelled in ice. My coat tails ride a gust of wind that passes by, picking up my hair that I’d thankfully tucked in a ponytail. The skin of my hands red as I can barely feel them, unable to get them to warm in my own pockets. 

A soft clearing of a throat has my gaze tossed upwards in front of me. His brown hair dusted with the falling snow, glimmering in the light. Jacket well-cut and framing his shoulders. Face soft, lips closed gently. His eyes, bright and blue, drawing me closer. He looks at home in the snow, and I’m glad I found someone who loves it as much as I do. 

All these thoughts must’ve made my eyes glaze because his grip meets my shoulders and I hear my name cut through the fog. I meet his ice blue gaze, eyes set beneath inward curved brows. He holds out his gloved hands to mine still shifting and shivering in vain against the wind. I offer them to him and he cups them close, lifting them to his face and blowing hot air over each finger. I have to look away as I feel his larger hands enveloping mine and trapping the heat as he rubs it in. The tingle of blood flow returns slowly as he holds them to his chest under his coat, pulling me toward him as my cheeks reddened at the proximity. Though it’s not long before I allow my face to rest on his chest just lightly. _ He’s just being kind… _ my heart smacks against my ribs, a subtle ache in my chest as my gaze looks to myself. 

I shouldn’t let him do this. I shouldn’t be letting myself indulge in a girlish crush. I know I have one. I have a damsel complex for one. And he’s chivalrous and a gentleman but he isn’t too uptight. Still snarky and sarcastic in a way that makes me an absolute giggly twit. 

We go places a lot. He takes me to some of his high-brow parties as his ‘one solace in a sea of idiots’. I know the other guests assume I’m his trophy arm warmer, but actually…. it’s kinda fun to pretend. I bring him to the quiet places of NYC, Greenwich village being a frequent spot. Sometimes I can get him to come to the game store where we alternate paying $5 an hour and play odd games we find on the shelves in the back. If one requires more than two players and he seems really interested, I just use some acting and goofy voices to make up the difference. He seems to enjoy my acting, even if he just chuckles and shakes his head. We get out of the main city to enjoy the quiet, walking down residential streets and occasionally talking when a topic comes to mind. 

Our outings… I have no idea what to call them. They aren’t dates, because we aren’t dating. Usually they come about by one of us texting the other if they want to ‘hang’ so hanging out seems the only apt description. We’re friends. We laugh and poke fun at each other. We whisper jokes and sarcastic remarks about things and have a good chuckle about it. We trust one another. It’s times like this though, where my chest is against him and I’m sure he feels my pulse as he puts my fingers to his lips to blow once more, that blur the line. 

My cheeks flush as, in the one glance I dare to take, I see his expression is softer than ever, eyes slightly lidded as his fingers delicately work the chill out of my hands. His thumbs rub my wrists, knowing if he can warm that spot he can help with the chill of my entire body. To me though, it’s a romantic gesture that has my knees wobbling as I shift my feet. I feel his chest once more as he presses my hands to his center of warmth. My palm flat as I can feel him under his layers. Not muscular, but lean and well built. Of course I could tell you that just by looking. I force my fingers to stay still. Snow continuing to fall as it blankets my hair, flakes catching in the webs of my mane where they sit and catch the light. 

He suddenly moves, making me jump as he pulls my hands away before guiding them to his right pocket as he looks down the street. We were in a quieter part of the city, but not super far out. 

He motions me to follow while I stuff both hands in his pocket, an awkward position as I have to huddle under his arm. He wraps it around me for necessity, the warmth making me involuntarily hum in relief and lean into him. The responding stiffness of his body making me back off a little, only for his arm to tighten, keeping my head at just the angle where I can’t see his face. We turn a few corners and cross a few streets before he ducks us into a café and releases me before the patrons can see us pressed close. My hands are no longer in his pocket, but the building is warm, the scent of coffee and fresh pastries riding the air blown around by the heater. 

He taps my left shoulder, the signal to go find a seat as he strides to the line. I watch him go and debate following him, but I know we won’t have somewhere to sit if I don’t nest. The next two person table that opens up is the one I claim. Taking a seat and looking at the tabletop with a sigh. A few mutters I overhear tell me Stephen’s been recognized, but that’s normal. As normal as the mutters of ‘who’s the girl?’ I put my head down with a groan when I hear someone whine ‘lucky’. What’s lucky about not knowing where you stand with a man and knowing both of you shouldn’t try to date again but being in a perpetual state of _ maybe _ because of little things like him taking your hands like they’re made of glass and warming them in the middle of the street?! I am lucky to have him as a friend though honestly. I have a singular doctor I can talk to for all my health needs. And someone to hang out with so I’m not completely lonely out here. 

A presence settling in front of me has me pull my face from the table. I must look groggy, because he chuckles before sliding a cup my way. I spin it to read the label. Hot cocoa. Another spin reveals a large note of ´EXTRA CHOC!´ in sharpie on the side of the cup. I breathe a giggle before lifting the drink in my hands, warmth radiating to my fingers as I blow cooling air into the hole of the lid. Feeling the air come back at me, I set the cup down and keep blowing, hand searching for the source of air. A small hole in the center of the lid is the culprit. I start to mess with it: Covering the hole and letting it go, blowing in the hole instead and putting a hand over the drinking hole to feel the air. I used to do this as a kid… guess it’s another thing I never grew out of. 

When I stop playing I look up to see him taking a drink of his own beverage while glancing out the window, but his lips are.. a little tense. His hands are too, which is odd for the surgeon. I ask if he’s okay, to have him nod obviously and play it off. I look around to see a few searching eyes on him. What was he doing when I was off in my head space? I place my hands to the table, index finger lifting to brush on the warmth of my cocoa. My gaze going down before it travels the room, people watching to calm my nerves. Why am I nervous all the sudden? I didn’t even realize until I started to calm myself down. 

My fingers are beginning to fidget, so I occupy them by raising my drink to my lips, tipping it to try the contents. I make a sound of approval as I’m greeted by what tastes like liquid milk chocolate. I lower the cup to see Stephen looking at me, searching my reaction. I smile and raise the cup again, I’m such a chocoholic. 

There are a few giggles so I lower the cup once more. Again he’s looking out the window. What is so interesting out there? I take a look myself… just a busy New York street. Maybe he’s people watching and the giggles were that table’s own discussion? I shouldn’t assume everything is about our table just because I have a world renowned brain surgeon sitting across from me and shuffling his feet with mine. -! My brain rewinds. Since when were we playing footsie? 

I bring my feet under my chair and lock them around the wooden legs as I hide my face in my cup, no chilling winds can be blamed for my flaming cheeks here. When I peek over the dark plastic lid I see him still fascinated by the window, but the tension is gone from his face and he seems to be genuinely watching the people go by. I take in the contour of his cheek, his neck that slopes down under the collar of his jacket, his jaw shifting as he takes another sip. My hand stops halfway across the table as I spot some of his hair out of place. I hear the giggles again.

I swallow hard, and put down my drink with a little more force than was needed, making a small thunk. Strange flicks his gaze to the noise and in an effort to hide I look out the window. Huh… I get it. He lets out a long sigh that I parrot back while my shoulders slump. My hand goes to my chest as two fingers meet my collar bone, catching the protrusion as my thumb runs along its other side, gaze trailing to the solace of the window once more. Frost is crackled on the glass and it reminds me of the air between us. Trusting but hesitant. A warm frost. 

He asks if I’m ready to go. I’m not. I want anything but going home. I want to yank him across the table and kiss him, I want to fix his hair, knowing I’ll have it tousled in the next hour. I want a lot of things. 

I open my mouth… a flood of words just barely held back by one emotion.. fear. I ask if we can finish our drinks first. He agrees. I hear soft sympathetic murmurs. I raise my cup… and look out the frost covered window.


	6. Brake Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another outing by the duo! Enjoy some teasing and slightly zesty fluff.

July 29, 2016

He was upset. I could hear it in his voice, that low subtle sign that he needed my help, whether he wanted me to or not I heard him, and I have every intention of assisting.

So here I stand, well more accurately, here I squat with my right hand in a classic crab squat orientation. While my left is ornamented with an orange plastic accessory that wraps around my middle finger and gives my hand a pair of large googly eyes. Just when I thought my knees were going to yell ‘screw you’ and drop me on my rear, a familiar lambo approaches my position. Stopping steadily as I watch the window lower. There is Strange, amused and disappointed in an expression that has no name, but all of my admiration. His head dips with a sigh as he leans to open the door while averting his eyes.

“Hey Strange!”

I greet, shuffling myself into the seat before kerplunking my backpack at my feet.

“Hey.”

He glances over at me with a faked but tender smile, lips curved with his eyes unmoved. 

“Where are we going, surprise again?”

“Yes.”

“Sweet let’s go.”

“Try to not wet the seat over the engine this time.”

“I-! I did not wet the seat you perverted poncy-ninny-munger!”

My voice rises with my defence, and his grin gains a genuine shine that raises my spirits a bit. His shoulders shifting in a soft chuckle as my gaze is thrown to the window to watch the buildings go by, forcing my thoughts to deduce where we’re going. It is already ten to eleven, so we aren’t going to Gotham West Market.

The Highline is a possibility, as we broke the rules last time we went up, _ how long ago was that? It feels like yesterday... _ but I highly doubt the great Dr. Stephen Vincent Strange would be so droll as to repeat himself. My arm rests on the door as my cheek is nipped by the chill of the window, almost touching, but not quite. Sometimes the glare from a passing car in the opposite lane makes a mirror on the glass, letting me catch a glimpse of Stephen as he drives on the inky black roads while the engine purrs away. A few times I catch him doing the same game as I am, but he always turns his attention back to the cars ahead as the red of the brake lights sharpen the contours of his face. After the fifth time catching myself tracing them, I search for small-talk. Seems he has the same idea, in fact, he beats me to it.

“What have you been up to this past week?”

“Art, sleep, food.”

“Riveting”

“Oh well then what have _ you _ been up to Oh Grand Neurosurgeon?~”

“You’re mocking me?”

Obviously he knows this, his brows quirked in a devilish smirk. I have to pause a moment as it feels like I got stabbed in the chest with a syringe, but I’m already laughing anyway.

“Well of course!”

“If you _ must _know, I’ve been saving lives. Still haven’t gotten the ‘Strange Technique’ to catch on though..”

“Well I’ve got news for you then!”

“Oh? And what is that?”

His eyes flick to me briefly, and I feel snakes coil in my gut.

“You know how you adjust your posture to assert dominance?”

His face drops to one of thought.

“No actually. I never noticed… why?”

“Well I’ve made a system to gauge the intimidation factor, whenever I notice you doing it I rate it 1-10 on what I call the Strange Scale.”

“Glad to hear _ something _named after me.”

“I thought it was rather fitting.”

“It's a very _ you _ thing to notice and measure.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Do you want it to be?”

“You’re rude.”

The engine gives a gentle roar to back me up.

“See even your car agrees.”

“You know, sometimes I fear you two are plotting against me.”

“Nah! We like you too much.”

“Ha! Sure~ you do.”

“Are you doubting me Doctor?”

“A bit.”

My expression falls with my tone.

“You know I’m always here for you right?”

My body is leaned on the center console, elbow slightly digging into the surface as my gaze sharpens, meeting confused ice blue orbs made violet by the cars ahead. The light allowing him to keep his attention on me a moment. I feel stuck, like my legs have melded to the seat and my spine has fused, refusing to let me move. A scarlet tint curves over his cheek bones as my eyes lower in something I don’t recognize.

“I-”

The glare disappears and his head swivels back to the road. My gaze catching a glimpse of his hand hovering in the air before the roar of the engine has my body pressing into the seat with the lurch of the vehicle. I play off what I saw as a trick of the light, as both of his hands are steadily maneuvering the car back into the city.

The rest of the drive goes by in relative silence as he shared classic rock with me over his car’s high-quality stereo, neither addressing what just occurred. Now isn’t the time, he’s not in the right place, I’m not in the right place. Best to keep the bridge we have for now.

The car stops on the side of the road, vibrant glowing signs nowhere to be seen as I wonder where we are. A click making me jump before my eyes settle on Strange, when had he gotten out of the car? His hand is extended towards me, and I take it appreciatively. 

“May I ask where we are?”

“Nope.”

His fingers wrap around mine and offer a steady tug to help me to my feet. Always a sucker for chivalry, my eyes refuse to raise from the sidewalk as my face warms. I’m usually highly independent, so I don’t always take such gestures well, but the mood just seems right. 

“Lead the way Doc.”

My lips curve upwards as he rolls his eyes and turns down the road. Close behind, I keep in his shadow as the asphalt is bathed in ambient light from the intersection. The shade a calm mahogany on the blacktop. His foot taps the time till the light changes, which struck me as odd, seeing as this is New York City. Lights don’t mean much here. It’s when I notice his shoulder is tilted my direction that I realize he’s being extra careful because of me. The snake in my gut rolls and my pace picks up to get in step with him.

“How far are we?”

My body leans forward as my neck cranes to look at his face, ready to gauge his reply.

“A few minutes at most.”

I almost pause. This was very Un-Stephen. He is highly efficient in everything he does, and as far as I can see he could’ve parked just about anywhere in this area. Where _ are _ we? For a moment my body tenses, worry taking hold as past fears begin to surface. I shake my head violently to clear it. Stephen is my friend, I can trust him, he wouldn’t hurt me. He would however, take notice of my nervous tick.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re acting strange.. but not _ you _ strange.”

He seems to ponder a moment before recognition crosses his features.

“You’re not afraid of me again are you?”

Guilt pangs in my stomach as I detect a hint of annoyance. 

“N-no! I-I’m just paranoid you n-know that.”

He nods loosely, opening his mouth to speak before he just stops himself.

“I trust you Stef. My brain just decided to scare me, it’s paranoia of ghosts, not you.”

His brow creases, an expression I’m very familiar with, but this one has a different tone to it. 

“Did you think I was going to trap you in an alley or something?”

I flush brightly.

“Uh-! N-no!”

His brow quirks.

“STOP THAT!”

I snap, and he lets it roll over him as he slows his steps. 

“Here we are.”

It’s a…. TAVERN! I love these kinds of environments, I almost trot in as Stephen holds the door. Taking lead to find a corner booth in the open seating.

“Thought you would enjoy this place.”

He remarks, and I don’t notice his gaze following me so closely. 

“What are you getting?”

I jolt. 

“Oh. Screwdriver, or a cape cod… if they have it.”

“Vodka huh?”

“Runs in the family, mom likes it too. But if you had something in mind...?”

“I thought we could give their signatures a try.”

“Sure! I’m in. Getting me drunk are you?”

I lean across the table. Elbows planted as my hips shift on the booth.

“Drinking with a friend is normal is it not?”

“Usually it’s more than two people.”

“Well..”

“It’s fine Strange.”

When we order drinks I go social recluse mode, waiting patiently until the thunk of glasses draws my attention to the table. We each raise our drinks.

“Cheers?”

He asks. I smirk and nod, tapping my glass to his.

“Clink!”

Bringing the cup to my lips I test the liquid. A subtle burn with an oaky finish. Almost chocolatey in undertones. I like it!

“Did I choose well?”

He muses as I don’t put the drink down, practically nursing it. My brows only lower at him, refusing to lower the glass. I can already feel the alcohol as, surprise to most, I don’t actually drink that often. 

The thought occurs to me that the staff didn’t feel the need to card me, but while some women would be offended, I am glad that the nuisance of wrestling my card out of my wallet will no longer be an issue. My glass makes a comfortable thunk on the table.

“You’ve caught on to my affinity for chocolate.”

“A real detective I must be. You hide it so well.”

I just stick my tongue out at him, eyes narrowing in a playful pout. His eyes rolling in reply before something in the tavern catches his gaze. His distraction is not ideal, my wandering glance tracing over his features like a critic over a fine sculpture. He gets this little quirk in his lip when something interests him. A small crease between his brows to match. Liquid courage is on the money, when he looks back over I don’t glance away. In fact I play it up, putting a hand beneath my chin as I prop myself a little closer. Icy storms are dormant and soft as his slight surprise is hidden under a smirk.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothin’.” 

I mutter, glancing down his jaw. He forgot to shave this morning.. Hm.

“Careful. You don’t want a hole in your lip.”

My brows just quirk at him coyly, my lip does escape my occupied nibbling though, tongue soothing the abused spot.

“Hmm…”

He chuckles and returns to his own glass, probably noting what kind of drunk I am. A quiet one, but a little more forward.

“This place is nice. Good atmosphere.”

He notes, playfully poking me into small talk. 

“I’ve always liked the calm air of these kinds of places. Even when the patrons are rowdy, the environment is just.. Soothing.”

“Well it suits you.”

:Not as well as you would..:

I have enough shame to bite that one back. I have grown rather comfortable with Strange. He’s kind and caring, and Christine is a fool. Sure he can get a little cocky, and maybe he _ is _ self absorbed in a relationship, but whenever he takes _ me _ to one of the fancy functions we have a blast. He keeps face and we laugh about it to ourselves. Sharing jokes even. The only thing uncomfortable is when someone assumes our relationship, but even that has ceased to bother me. When he gets confident in a conversation with some other big shot, I just enjoy the passion in his expression and the energy in his voice. He has a gift. I understand an egotistical pride coming from that. I’m a mirror in that regard. Speaking of said gift, his hands are rather fun to watch. I’ve been following them for the past 10 minutes. My name brings me back.

“Hm?”

“You’re rather occupied.”

“Just thinking.”

“Uh-huh”

“Just _ thinking _”

I assert. 

“Making sure you don’t need anything is all”

“Not that drunk Stef.”

“Implying..? What kind of man do you think I am?”

“A man.”

“Ouch”

“A good one though”

“Less ouch”

“Still a douche at times.”

“Compliment or insult. Pick one.”

“Make me.”

He leans toward me with a dark smirk, but stops in his tracks when I muse,

“Prove me right~.”

Checkmate. His hand is planted on the booth by my shoulder, but his brow is furrowed. Body stock still with an almost adorable look of disappointment. 

“You okay?”

I snicker. He nearly huffs as he retreats and picks up his glass, going to people watch while the alcohol mends his damaged pride. _ Sorry, I’m not that easy. Not anymore.. _ My own gaze slips to the tavern interior, cup in hand. This was a good idea.


	7. Spun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're getting along rather well. But Stephen's path has something else in mind.
> 
> As a small note from here on out.  
Words in colons are thoughts  
:it's just a habit of my writing. My bad:  
So without further ado! 
> 
> The last domino to fall before A Strange Turn of Events!

August 28, 2016

My feet shift over the tile as I sit beneath the white lights of the hospital, waiting for the word from the counter that my cab had arrived. Instead I get a call on my personal cell. I instantly recognize the number as the one from the hospital, specifically the ambulance system. My hands shaking as I answered, hesitantly putting the receiver to my face. 

… 

…

Words become a blur of noise as my arms become heavy as lead, knees threatening to give but remaining just tense enough to keep me teetering on my feet. All outside sound dulls to a droning tone. My blood runs cold as I feel it like a spider web under my skin. Numbness sets in before panic takes hold, gripping my chest like the talons of a hawk, holding my breath hostage to the point I almost feel the talons have punctured my lungs. Somehow, I manage to respond.

“Is he alright?!”

“We can’t be sure he’s stable until we get him to the hospital.”

The man then turns away from the phone, shouting indistinctly with a bunch of words I don’t understand. My heart is stopped, but it’s racing. I’m not breathing, but I’m hyperventilating. My mind is spinning, but it’s focused. My vision going in and out as my body struggles to stay conscious 

“I’m already at the hospital. I’ll see you here, just-”

My tone becomes demanding and cracked all at once.

“Take care of him!”

It was only after the line cut that I acknowledged the sound of helicopter blades that had been drowning out the man’s words. The same sound echoing from above the building as I slam a hand onto the counter of the nurses station.

“Cancel the cab.”

“-”

“NOW!”

Halls don’t even have names as I reach the operation wing. Spotting a swinging door as my shoulder charges it open. Within moments there’s hands on me, expressions tense and irritated as I thrash and struggle, the words leaving me more echoes than memories. My arm manages to get past the wall of people blocking my way. Fingers stretched to reach for what I knew was too far away. 

“STEPHEN!”

The exertion makes my strength give out, fighting my own body on the way down as my eyes went dark.

When I open my eyes I pay no mind to where I am. Getting to my feet until a tug in my arm makes me wince. 

Biting my lip I pull out the IV and keep moving. 

How long had I been out? 

Not four steps from my prison I am blocked again. Hands on my arms as I writhe in the grip, turning my body left and right rapidly to shake whoever is pushing me back.

“Maddie stop!”

My mind stutters, I know that voice. Behind the mask is Christine. I immediately demand answers

“Where is he? Is he alright? What are they doing?!”

“He’s still on the table. And has been for hours. They’re doing the best they can.”

Past fears begin to surface, clawing at me from within as I’m fighting to remain the loosest semblance of  _ calm _ .

“Are they!? Or does he also count as a waste of resources?”

Christine flinches, completely blindsided by my reply. She attempts to refocus my energy.

“His hands were crushed in the dashboard, all of his fingers are broken, we don’t know how long it’ll take. Please just sit down. I know it’s hard… I’m worried too, so much so they kicked me out of the room.”

: _ you hurt him _ : 

I mentally hiss. 

“How long was I out?”

“Maybe 2 and a half hours. It took 8 staff members to get you out. 3 inside were barring your way and pushing you out the door while another 5 tried to pull you into the hall. You still wouldn’t budge, fighting every step when you just collapsed. Your vitals were almost critical.”

“What do you-?”

“You were pushing your adrenaline to the limit and still demanding more. You almost stopped your own heart!”

“I-”

My gaze falls to the floor, it’s still spinning.

“Maddie do you need to tell me something?”

“I’m worried! I’m  _ really  _ worried! I just want-!! I Just Want To See That He’s Okay!” 

“Easy. If I take you in there, you need to stay out of the way. Understand.”

“I’m not a child. Just let me see him.”

I snap. Christine cautiously leading me down the hall and opening the door. My feet impatiently pacing behind her as my neck cranes to no avail as the doctors block my view. 

I swallow hard and take a step to the side, giving the personnelle a wide radius in order to not have my clearance revoked. My body is almost weightless, and almost lead as I finally see him. His face is bruised, a gash over his left eye, purple and swollen shut. My fingers flex, wanting to reach out but scared of the consequences. 

I want to stay, so I play it safe and go to the corner, sitting so I can see him while letting my knees have their way and lose all strength. Eventually I filter out the sound of all the medical instruments except the heart monitor, focusing on it to remind myself that time is passing. And as it passes, I grow restless.

My back begins to greatly protest the chair around hour 9, but I refuse to move. Feeling I have to stay and make sure they do their jobs. I can’t lose anyone else. The thought making me chew at my lip till it bled.

Time crawls on with the occasional words exchanged between the nurses on Stephen’s condition, every conversation being tumbled over in my brain as I chew my nails to the quick. 

Thoughts become a trap net, and my eyes wall with water every twenty minutes or so, forcing me to look down and whimper helplessly until the tears stop and I can resume my vigil. 

When the doctors finally step away from him, I’m on my feet immediately, following them at a safe distance as they carefully roll him to a room similar to the one I awoke in, and painstakingly lift him onto the bed before suspending his hands. 

His hands… each finger has a metallic shadow laying overtop. My gut rolling at how broken he looks. Everything in me screams to go to him, but I have to wait. The professionals leave, and I stride straight to the large chair in the corner and drag it to his bedside. My knees click and I sit down, leaning forward against the railing along the side of the bed, built to prevent him from rolling. My arms uncomfortably straining over the rail to reach him. One hand just beside him as the other strokes over his forearm as gently as I can. 

Settled in, I rest my head on the rail, knowing but not caring that the bar that was painfully digging into my cheek would leave a temporary dent as, with my goal accomplished, I let my body rest. Only now did the pain in my chest strike me full force, lungs struggling even now to regain stability as my eyes fall closed in uneasy sleep. 

I drift in and out of consciousness, cracking one eye open whenever someone enters the room. So I’m only half-aware when someone comes in and removes the railing from the bed side, allowing me to rest more comfortably with my head by his lap. 

At some point I must’ve crawled up next to him, as I awake laying over the sheets, delicately curved to not disturb him. The hand under me contorted up to smooth his hair as my free hand had resumed the comforting presence on his forearm. 

After a few scares of someone almost coming in but instead passing by, I carefully move myself off the bed, stuck standing a moment as I trace a finger around the less injured half of his face.

“Wake up soon…”

I whimper, forcing myself to sit back in the chair and go back to sleep. 

This time when I awoke I look across the bed to see someone else resting their head on his other side. By the brown strands I  _ knew _ it was Christine. Her hair is a mess, as I’m sure mine is too, but I don’t really care about tangles as my brain has quite enough to untangle already. That is until he moves. I sit up.

“Stephen?”

I plead, watching him struggle to just open his eyes has my chest twisting. Christine seems to be alerted by my plea, lifting her head as we both watch him wake up.

His expression immediately twists in confusion, even as he reduced the reaction to keep his injuries in comfort. Horror beginning to flood into his eyes as he lifts his hands and they tremble like leaves in a storm.

“What did they do?”

He rasps. Christine goes to explain his injuries while I focus on comfort, and place my head down.

“... no one could’ve done better!”

Palmer reasons. His response cracked and dry as he forced it from his throat.

“I would've… I could’ve done better.”

My grip tightens on his sheets and I fight myself as tears come down my face, soaking into the white fabric as I seemed to draw Stephen’s attention.

“Maddie? How long have you been?”

Unable to speak I find myself grateful for Christine answering for me.

“She was here before I was. It took 8 nurses to keep her out of the operating room and even then she demanded I let her see you. She’s been within 10 feet of you since.”

His face fell as he felt warmth on his arm where he knew I’d been holding him. The ghost of a touch still lingering on his skin as I just stay there, face buried in the sheets, praying he’s going to be okay. And he stayed silent, watching me with disbelief in his expression as Christine decides to slip out of the room for a while. I need a minute alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The die has been cast. How will Maddie's presence change his journey in Kamar Taj?  
Check out The already complete follow-up [A Strange Turn of Events](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20774537/chapters/49366130)!


End file.
